Last Song at the Midnight Café
by Nancy Brown
Summary: Five years after Jack walked out alone from the House of the Dead, he gets a message.


Pairings: Jack/everyone but ultimately Jack/Ianto  
Warnings: violence and gore, using sex as bartering tool  
Spoilers: set after "The House of the Dead" and also MD  
AN: Fusion with the Orpheus myth. Written for Trope Bingo square: fusion

* * *

It's been five years, Earth-time, since Jack walked out alone from the House of the Dead. He tries not to think about what happened there, what he almost did and what he really lost. But Gwen is huge with her second baby, and she's full of stories of the old times, especially from when she found out her first was on the way. Jack can only bear so much before he runs off to bury himself elsewhere, finding a nice turn of leg or a perfect pair of tits, and he manages to forget for a while.

Five years, and a dying half-squid-thing that even he hasn't encountered the species of before is bleeding on his streets and babbling about Syriath like she's still around. Jack reckons he must be hearing things, but the squid gasps and dies with a few very intriguing words on what passes for its fishy lips: Hell dimension, Syriath, rebirth.

Jack isn't stupid, despite the act he puts on at times. He doesn't run off, he doesn't automatically believe. He does research, calling in favours and tapping on the shoulders of old friends for information.

Syriath. Hell dimension. Real.

It's almost another year before he makes the decision, a year full of space flotsam washing up on Earth's shores, Rift or closed Rift (and where did the other end go?). Gwen's girl is in school, and her boy is in arms when Jack tells her. Rhys shakes his hand and wishes him well, kind in the friendship they have finally managed to grow despite everything. Gwen cries, but not like she did before. She has her family now, real and alive, and she won't lose them for anything.

"Tell him I said hello," she says, sniffling. Jack kisses her on the forehead for luck, on the cheek for kindness, and on the mouth for the hell of it. He's never going to see her alive again, he knows in his bones, not unless he loops back in time.

He doesn't say the same goodbye to Martha. She's a time-traveller after all, not bound to Earth. He may see her again some day, so he saves up his farewell.

He has a vague idea of his destination. Armed with his pistol and a knife, it's past time to go.

* * *

"Please," Jack says, and Alonso just says, "No."

"Please?"

"No!"

Jack made the mistake of telling his old flame where he intended to go, and now he has to face an astonishingly obstinate foe who has no intention of gaining him passage on the ship Jack so desperately wants to board.

"You're a madman."

"But you like me."

Two hot, sweaty hours later, Alonso says, "Fine."

Another sweaty hour later, Jack tells him why he's going. To Jack's surprise, he is not summarily booted out of Alonso's bunk.

"You. Are. A. Madman," he gets instead. But then, Alonso had to deal with what were probably too many stories of what had brought Jack out into space the last time they'd met.

The ship takes him as far as the Orion Nebula, and Jack has a warm place to sleep the whole trip. Not bad, considering he's walking into Hell.

"I could go with you." They're saying their goodbyes, and Alonso has that puppy face. It's cute, but Jack has plans.

"You don't want to. Trust me."

"You'll look," Alonso says, and turns away.

He'd love the company, he thinks as he watches his friend leave. However, Jack has arrived at exactly the wrong destination to bring along someone cute, especially someone cute he's shagged recently.

* * *

Captain Jericho Halson, as his crazy ex currently styles himself, is on a winning streak at the _koolard_ tables, and it takes away even for Jack's many charms to catch his attention.

"You want to go _where_?" Jericho asks, sprawling in the biggest bed his winnings could afford him. Jack's fortunate that he wasn't passed over for the triplets who'd been eyeing Jericho's enormous pile of credits. One useful thing about having been semi-married to this man for five years: Jack still remembers every button to push, and every centimetre of skin John likes petted.

"Eventually? Hell. For now, I need a lift to _The Maldovarium_. Think you're up for it?"

"Oh, Gorgeous, I'm up for quite a lot."

It takes several days' worth of convincing, and spending all of John's hard-cheated credits. Jack is sore in places he almost forgot he has. It's worth every twinge, as John flips open his wrist strap.

* * *

John swindles a number of patrons of _The Maldovarium_ out of their own hard-cheated credits before he leaves Jack. Jack hasn't told him the reason behind his quest, and won't. John's the jealous type.

"I need information," Jack says to Dorium Maldovar.

"Don't we all?"

"I intend to travel to Syriath's private Hell dimension, someone inside the Loxin Cluster."

"Then you're mad." Dorium examines his drink very closely before he takes a sip. "You shouldn't bother. No-one makes it out. They always look."

"My sources tell me you know how to get there."

"Your sources are correct."

"So tell me."

"For free? I take it back, you're not mad, you're very stupid."

They bargain for some time; Jack isn't Dorium's type, but the owner of this nasty ("Classy!" Dorium insists) black market bar does like Jack's singing voice.

"Perform here for five years, and I will tell you what you want to know."

"Five years?" Jack stands to storm out.

Dorium waves his hand. "I know what you are, Captain. What is time to you?"

Jack grumbles and sits down. And agrees. He is less pleased when he discovers that a year here is four on Earth.

The time passes slowly, with Jack crooning songs he barely remembers for patrons who don't care. The tips are pretty good, though.

At the end of the fifth year, Jack buys Dorium a drink. "You owe me information."

"There's a woman. She comes in now and then. Different names, different guises, but I can point her out to you. She has access to a Galieldin pulse generator. If you line that in with a proper Vortex Manipulator," he says, glancing at Jack's broken model, "it'll take you where you want to go."

"Let me guess. I have to work for another ten years to get the new Vortex Manipulator."

"As it happens, she already has one." Dorium takes a drink. "I will tell you this for free. Don't accept any food or drink from her." He pats his belly unhappily.

* * *

River Song has a fantastic turn of leg and one of the most perfect sets of tits Jack has ever seen. "Dorium told you what?"

"A Galieldin pulse generator," Jack says. He's bided his time awaiting her arrival by researching the bejesus out of this. "I can wire it into your VM and it'll get us there."

"As it happens," she says, displaying her leather wrist strap for his inspection, "I do not have a Galieldin pulse generator."

Jack's heart falls.

"But I'm here on business for the University. I know where I can acquire one for their collection. Dorium's just a spot out of order." She finishes her drink. "Help me steal it, yeah?"

"If I do?"

"You can use it before I take it to the University's museum."

"Deal."

Jack only dies twice on their expedition, not bad. As they sit at a campfire with their prize in hand and a long walk back to the abandoned village ahead of them, Jack thinks his current companion is absolutely gorgeous. She is, alas, not interested in more than a little flirtatious kissing.

"Married, you see," she says, and that opens a story he was not expecting. He tells her his own tale in return.

"You're insane," River says. "You can't possibly think you can walk into Hell and pull him out."

"He went in for me once. If this is real, then I sent him in there when the House of the Dead fell." He wonders how time passes there. Has Ianto spent the last twenty-six years waiting for him in his own private Hell?

"Everyone looks," says River, with the firm knowledge of one who has studied history inside and out, and myths as well. "You shouldn't go."

"What if it was the Doctor there? What would you do?" Jack knows his own answer, and he doesn't enjoy the knowledge. Ever since he started this quest, even before, he understands that if he were given the choice between the Doctor's life and Ianto's, he'd throw the Doctor into a sun. Jack's a little afraid of himself when he considers it.

River isn't afraid. Jack doubts she's afraid of anything. "I'd go back twice."

* * *

They wash up on a murky shore together, still time-sick from the journey through the Vortex, and through the half-worlds between reality and unreality. "You go alone from here," River tells him. Jack nods. This isn't her quest. She hands him something. "Good luck."

It's not long until he comes to the first challenge: a three-headed monster. There's only one three-headed alien that haunts his dreams, and the lack of smoke surrounding this one tells him the lobster-beast isn't real. Jack presses the button on the side of the iPod River gave him. Elvis Costello starts to play, soothing the 456 into a slumber.

Jack drops the iPod there, and keeps walking.

Syriath's home is immense: a great city on a black hill, covered in the dark bunting and banners of the dead. Skeletons watch him climb, grinning their impassive grins as he cuts his hands on the sharp stones.

"Syriath!"

The doors to the city creak open. No-one is there. Jack goes inside.

Syriath is beautiful, more than he could have imagined. She is temptation, and more. Nothing here is real, not the perfumed raven locks of her hair, nor the crimson-black of her gown.

"It's about time you arrived," she says, and spreads out her hands to indicate a well-laden table. "Come. Refresh yourself, Captain Harkness."

Jack stands still. "I've come for Ianto Jones." The shadows at the table part enough to see Ianto sitting at the other end. He doesn't look bound. He looks tired.

Ianto says, "You shouldn't have come, Jack."

"I had to."

Syriath says, "You can't have him." She waves her hand, and a shadow shimmers and sparkles, and forms another shape.

It's Steven.

"But perhaps I will allow you to take this one instead."

Jack kneels down, not even realising until he is face to face with his grandson. Syriath has control of space and time. This is the other end of the Rift, the other face of the House of the Dead. But her ghosts were fakes, all but one.

"This is another test," Jack says, pain in his throat. "This isn't real."

"Are you sure? Look at him, Jack. The child you killed. The Furies will make their work of you when they catch you. But you could have him back."

Jack wants to reach out, wants to take the child into his arms. But if he does, all is lost. "They can come," he says through sand. "What will they do? Tear me to pieces until I'm an immortal head in a box?"

"Don't give them ideas."

"He isn't real," Jack says, standing. "Ianto is."

The shadow of Steven, mercifully, disappears.

"As I said, you can't have him."

"I've come to bargain."

"You have nothing," says Syriath. "You have sold your body to come here, sold your voice, and sold your thieving tricks. None of those are of use to me."

"I'm offering a trade."

Ianto's face shifts into horror. For the first time, Jack is certain he's not also a shade. "Jack, don't."

"When his time is done, truly done, I will come back here, and you can have my soul for whatever you want."

Syriath shivers closer, examining Jack like she might a racehorse. "That might do."

"I won't go," Ianto says from his seat. Jack can't see any bindings but knows they are there.

"Of course," Jack says, ignoring him, "I'll have to ensure I'm getting what I came for."

"You can't shag him on the table," says Syriath.

"Don't need to." Jack approaches Ianto's chair from lightyears away, kneels down, and takes his head into his hands. The kiss is gentle, and just right. No amount of trickery can fool Jack into believing Ianto's kiss is anyone else. "You're real," he breathes, astounded and pleased.

"You're an idiot," Ianto says, and steals another kiss. "But you shouldn't have come."

Syriath says, "And there is the matter of the proper forms. You may take him from here, but he will walk behind you. You cannot look back to see that he follows, or the deal is off. This is the tradition. These are the rules. Do you accept?"

"Always," Jack says.

"They always look," Syriath gloats.

"Yeah." Then Jack reaches into his belt. His gun is on one side. On the other is his knife. He plunges the tip into his left eye.

The pain is extraordinary, and he gasps at the sickening sound the orb makes as it pops, as he withdraws the knife to take out the other. The pain is worse the second time, because he knows what's coming.

"Interesting," Syriath says, as Ianto cries out, too late. "And clever. Go, before I change my mind."

Jack nods, feeling his own blood dripping down his face. He stumbles out of the hall, out of the city. He has to believe Ianto is behind him, because they cannot touch and Ianto will not speak to him now. It's the last test, the examination that everyone fails.

All he must do is not look.

The path is long, and treacherous. Jack has to take his time. If he slips and falls, he'll die, and if he dies, his eyes will regrow. He'll look. He can't risk it.

"I'm going to assume you're behind me," he says to what he hopes isn't the air. Despite the cracklebone crunch of rocks beneath his feet, he hears nothing from the man who should be at his heels. "I've missed you. You wouldn't believe how much. I told you I wouldn't forget you, that I couldn't. As soon as I heard that this end of the Rift, this face of the House, had found its way here, I had to come for you. Tell me you understand."

Silence.

He's weak from the blood flowing down his face, tired from his journey, lost inside his heart. Jack isn't sure he believes Ianto is with him, isn't entirely sure he didn't lose his mind back on Earth. Perhaps he's locked up somewhere safe, where the walls are soft and the staff are kind, and he is yammering and frothing about drawing his dead lover out of Hell.

Jack keeps walking.

He stumbles, falling to aching knees that cut and bruise on the too-sharp stones. He expects an arm, a strong hand, something to raise him up, but there's nothing. He starts to feel his eyes growing back. Tears leak from his ruined ducts. "I'm not losing you again, not this way."

And from not far off, he hears an unusual noise. It's Elvis Costello, and he's confused about peace, love, and understanding. Ianto's voice whispers very close in his ears: "I told you, you're an idiot."

Then something cool and silky drapes over Jack's eyesockets, something that feels like a fine weave and smells like Ianto's cologne. Ianto cinches the tie firmly behind Jack's neck without actually touching him, and Jack gets to his feet again. Together, they make their stumbling way to where River waits impatiently. Jack doesn't even faint until the Vortex is tugging them away from here and towards Luna University.

* * *

Eyes growing back hurt. A body gone into Hell and out again hurts. But the first sight he sees when the bandages are finally lifted is the face he's missed for decades.

"Hi," Jack says, almost shyly.

"If you say I'm a sight for sore eyes, things will go very hard for you."

"I love you, too," Jack says, resting on a pillow

"I know," says Ianto, and he kisses Jack's head.

* * *

The End

* * *

As ever, my three favourite words are, "I liked this."


End file.
